Sinfjolti is a Hobgoblin who has seen 37 cycles of the war horns, standing 6’4 at a solid 220 pounds and is a loose follower of the ideals of Bane but follows the teachings of Avandra. Dark red skin, black hair with an odd meticulously trimmed goatee, adorned in black armor with his personal crest, the elven equivalent of the letter Z in crimson, armed with a gleaming scimitar, Sinfjolti is probably the best looking Hobgoblin you’ve seen.
Quirky is the best word to describe Sinfjolti, or Bif as he demands his friends call him. Never one to back down from a challenge, Bif embodies the best aspects of a follower of Bane, dedicated martial prowess and the desire to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. Bif is fiercely loyal to his friends, though secretly ranks them in order of loyalty and will always back the higher ranked in circumstances of disagreeance. Though extremely intelligent, Bif is prone to rash and often times chaotic behavior, a sign of his heritage. Unlike his bloodkin however, Bif does not harbor a disdain for the fey, unless they’re paladins, a holdover from his mentor. Extremely stubborn, there are only two ways to motivate Bif into changing his mind or changing his course, the promise of bacon and if that doesn’t work, he can never say no to the temptation of obtaining a new sack.
Born eldest son to Herrpa, warchief of the clan Derrp, Sinfjolti was destined for greatness. Showing ability with both the sword and magic he was taught from a young age to be a Hand of Bane to smite the enemies of his people, first amongst them the fey, a blood feud young Sinfjolti never understood but knew never to question.
Sinfjoltis first run in with the fey changed his life forever. Alone on a hunt, Sinfjolti ran across the most peculiar sight he had ever seen, an eladrin practicing the sword magic that he himself practiced in secret. And eating the same foods that he ate (Dear Bane, BACON!!!). This confused young Sinfjolti greatly as he was taught that the eladrin were beastial creatures who existed solely to eradicate the Goblins and the only thing they held in common with the civilized Goblin race was that they both bleed when stabbed. Enthralled, Sinfjolti watched the eladrin from the edges of the forest. When the eladrin retired for the night Sinfjolti crept into the camp, taking a strange interest in the sack the fey left by the fire. No matter how much the fey pulled from the sack there always seemed to be more and Sinfjolti just had to understand how it worked. So entranced by this magical sack of wonder, Sinfjolti did not notice the eladrin walk up behind him. “Well now, you sure are a curious one for a Hobgoblin.” said the fey in Goblin startling Sinfjolti. With a twitch of the wrist, Sinfjolti summoned his sword from the woods where he foolishly left it and whirled to face the fey. “Ah, a swordmage, so my dreams were true after all, end this foolishness Sinfjolti Derrp we both know if you were going to kill me you would have done so before raiding my Bag of Holding. Come, for I have much to teach you.” So great was Sinfjoltis curiosity that he did lower his blade, after all this supposed unintelligent beast not only knew his language, but his war and clan name.
Egged on by his curiosity, Sinfjolti spent 3 months studying under this eladrin, who eventually shared his name as Zaruth. Zaruth shared much with Sinfjolti, or as he came to call him Bif Crackers, “Because you remind me of my favorite childhood snack, strange to look at, even odder to make, but once you understand the intricacies, a marvel to behold.” The sword, magic and how to use them in unison were the base of what was shared, but Zaruth also taught Bif Crackers the ways of the eladrin and other races, manners and etiquite, about the deities (especially why he should hate their paladins) and the secrets of anatomical sketching. The one thing Zaruth would not share no matter how many time Bif Crackers asked, was how Zaruth knew his name and why he was willing to teach Bif Crackers.
Never before had Bif Crackers known such peace. This all came crashing down one day as a war party of clan Derrp, lead by his younger brother Bryyn, stumbled upon the camp one fateful afternoon while Bif Crackers was out gathering supplies. Alone, Zaruth was overwhelmed and captured to be a sacrifice to Bane. Out of nowhere, an enraged Bif Crackers charged into the camp, cutting down his very own bloodkin in order to rescue his friend. Utilizing the skills taught as a child by the Goblins, and the swordmage technique from Zaruth, Bif Crackers slaughtered most of the war party the remaining members fled. Bif Crackers followed them, all the way back to the clan hold, picking off one here and another there. Upon reaching the hold, Bif Crackers was greeted by his father Herrpa. “Sinfjolti, why do you cut down your kin, what demon hold did the fey lay on you?” Being in front of the one person of a higher station than himself, Bif Crackers strict adherence to order and station snapped into place and his anger diminished. “Warchief, he is no demon and he has no hold on me. He is my friend and these lessers overstepped themselves attacking him as such.” At this Herrpa recoiled, his son with all his promise proclaiming an eladrin a friend. “You are Fey-touched.”
Fey-touched, a death sentence in Goblin society. Used for those of only the most heinous of crimes. Bane himself offers rewards for those who kill Fey-touched. At those words, Bif Crackers lost his only ties to Goblin society, his title, his property, but most important to him at this moment, the station that prevented him from defending himself. The events that occurred after those fateful words were spoken by Herrpa remain in mystery. What is known however, is that Clan Derrpa no longer exists, slain to the last save for Sinfjolti himself. Those that survived, the goblin and bugbear servants, spread the word far amongst the Goblin holds. Sinfjolti the Fey-touched, the most hated of Goblin bloodenemies, a terror used by Goblin instructors to scare their students into discipline, the mere mention of his name drives terror into the hearts of lesser goblins and enrages the Hands of Bane.
After the massacre, Bif returned to the camp he and Zaruth shared for those three months only to find that Zaruth had left, leaving behind only a note.
“Bif Crackers my dear boy, Sorry for the rudeness wish I could have stuck around for a proper sendoff but duty calls. Come find me at the Arcane College in Anapa. I’m sure I can find use for someone of your skills there. Remember, pinky out when drinking tea and never trust the damn paladins. Roll with the dice, but we make our own destiny. ~Prof. Zaruth, Chair of Teleportation and Ensuring You Don’t Die, Anapa Arcane College, Tower 3.
P.S. Left behind one of my ‘magazines’ for you. Gets a bit lonely out in the woods and I could spare to leave one from my collection. Enjoy! ~Z.”
That was 12 years ago, Bif has been searching ever since.
To finally understand the magic behind the Bag of Holding. To have the greatest collection of sacks ever assembled. To one day have enough gold to open a Bacon restaurant next to his future sack shop. To continue to make Zaruth proud.